


He made the devil do it

by Adakillszombies



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:39:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adakillszombies/pseuds/Adakillszombies
Summary: Lucifer returns to earth - as he dearly wished to, and yet against his will.A summoning spell creates a brand new Deckerstar dynamic, right out of their worst nightmares.





	He made the devil do it

**Author's Note:**

> I read something about how the Lucifer writers came up with a really wacky idea for how Lucifer could return from hell. That got me thinking, and I came up with this. Having come up with this, I felt compelled to put it in writing.
> 
> So, this is my season 5 prediction. 
> 
> I don't have a lot of free time, so although I have some idea where this should go (at least to start with) I don't know when or if I'll write anymore. That isn't a request for encouragement, just fair warning.
> 
> I give zero fucks about typos, factual accuracy/research, plot holes, etc... Like I said, no time.
> 
> Also, how great is Lucifer? The show generally and the dude in particular. <3

The candles lit the room with a warm glow, imparting comfort rather than the chill of fear that the man had felt when he first set the scene.  The smell of burning bone could almost be a romantic meal overcooked.  As he looked at his bloody hand in bandages, and the smudged piece of scribbled on, lined paper in his other hand, he felt foolish.  His heart rate slowed, and the sweat on the back of his neck started to dry in the heat. 

 

He huffed out something almost like a laugh, except that he was too fucked now, after this failure, to feel any true amusement.  The place needed only a Ouija board to look like something straight out of a cheesy horror movie... or a slumber party.  

 

That bitch was stringing him along all the time, he didn't know how she did it, but-

 

The candles flickered, once, twice, and his eyes went to the window automatically.  But he'd draught-proofed the room - the windows, the door - on her strict instructions. He'd even bought stupidly expensive candles in his anxiety to ensure that there would be a "constant, steady flame" as she'd described.

 

His heart rate picked up again, even as he began talking himself down from the ridiculous idea that there was anything to be concerned about.  He rubbed his eyes.  The light seemed to dim and he suddenly worried that he was passing out from blood loss. Or maybe shock. The candles continued to flicker and in the spaces between the warm orange glow the room seemed to turn blue.  

 

The candlelight became increasingly unsteady, and then began to fade altogether.  The man pulled anxiously at the suddenly tight collar of his polo shirt.  It almost seemed as though the air was being sucked away with the failing flames.  As the candles all but stopped burning, the embattled orange flame of each candle sputtering, almost hidden in the well of melted wax, he realised the colour in the in between, there in the background, wasn't blue.  It was an absence of colour. Something soft landed on his hand, and he looked down to see fine grey flakes alighting from seemingly nowhere onto his hands and arms, which were shaking now with his fear. 

 

His nerve broke, and he began to stagger towards the door, the floor seeming unsteady.  He almost dropped the paper he was holding, then clutched it to his chest in desperation.

 

Before he could reach the taped-up door, the candles went out altogether, and he stopped, looking around. He started to breathe a sigh of relief as the room - from what he could see of it in the light of the LA night - looked completely ordinary once more. 

 

His eyes flicked automatically around all four corners. That was when he saw, in the corner closest to the door, the twin red glows.  And at the same time as his eyes registered the eerie lights, his ears picked up the sound of deep, ragged breaths.  Not his.  

 

His sense of self-preservation seemed to kick in before he could even think about what he was seeing and hearing.  His eyes flew to the paper clutched in his now rock steady hands, and his tongue felt looser than it ever had as he rattled off the words in front of his eyes.  For a moment he thought he saw the words blur and become another language, and his voice would have faltered, except that it no longer seemed to be under his control.  He heard himself speaking nonsense words as if from far away, and at the same time the burning dots grew closer, and a form materialised around them. 

 

A hand shot out to grab his throat, and would have choked his words unspoken had he not already finished.  He felt himself return fully to his body as the strange urgent power that had possessed him flowed out of him.  He was left shaking in the grip of a man-like creature with burning red eyes and wild dark hair.  The red-eyed man-creature's mouth stretched wide in almost a grin - a horrible, horrified unnatural grin.  "What. have. you. done", the apparition choked out, meeting his eyes intently and staring into them.

 

The man spluttered, trying to say - well, anything - around the fingers clutching his neck.

 

The fingers loosened marginally, accompanied by a growl, and then (he could have sworn, in sarcastic tones) ".. so sorry, what is it you were trying to say.  I'm simply quivering with anticipation. If I were you, I’d make it something memorable."  The thing suddenly sprouted huge, white feathery wings, which swept up and out, towering over them both, and it looked coiled and ready to spring.

 

"... please ... let go" he managed to choke out now, feeling only dull surprise over the posh English accent.

 

The fingers withdrew instantly, as though burned.  The creature's eyes flew open, and it looked down at its hands, now well away from the man's neck.  Slowly, ever so slowly, it raised its eyes back to the man's face.  The red faded from around its eyes and face, and it looked increasingly like nothing more than an ordinary man - if ordinary men had wings.  It opened its mouth as though to speak, and then closed it again, looking sick.

 

Everything clicked in the man's mind, and he understood at just the same time as the creature did.  Its eyes flared red again, and it bared its teeth.  He rushed to speak again, trying to talk over the giggles that suddenly bubbled up in his throat.  

 

The creature reacted violently to his attempt to talk, sweeping its wings towards his face, screaming "NO!".

 

Time seemed to slow, and he spoke first, easily, before the wings reached him.   "Stop. Stop Lucifer. Be still."

 

The wings froze an inch before his face, and then vanished.  A shaking man stood before him, then fell to his knees. His eyes were brown. And yet they burned all the same.

 ********************

 

**LAPD headquarters, next morning**

 

Chloe sat at her desk, tapping at her keyboard, finishing up some paperwork.  In the month since Lucifer had gone back to hell, she had stopped glancing up every few moments, half expecting to see him striding towards her, saying "ah, detective" with his signature grin.  She hadn't trained herself deliberately to stop the habit.  She'd just lost hope.

 

She sensed a person moving to stand before her desk, and her head jerked up, out of her control.  Dammit.  So maybe she hadn't lost hope entirely.

 

The uniformed officer standing there looked unsure.  "Boss says, since you're not doing anything else, you might as well chip in on our B&E".

 

"Ex... excuse me!? Not doing anything... " She sputtered.  "Look, I happen to have A LOT of unsolved murders on my plate just now", she said, patting her pile of folders.

 

"Um, yeah", his eyes flicked from side to side, the cop clearly desperate to be anywhere else, "but like, I mean boss says, you've hit dead ends on all of them.  I mean you don't have any leads. So...."

 

Chloe's face flushed.  It's true, she hadn't solved anything but the most basic murder in weeks.  Four weeks, to be exact.  She was one of the best, had proved she was one of the best with or without Lucifer.  And here she was stumped on everything.  Was it just bad luck, or was she letting her personal life interfere with her job? She gritted her teeth in sheer disappointment at herself.  "No, you're right.  I'm not doing anything useful right now, how can I help?"  

 

While the man babbled, she made a mental note to revisit all her case files that night.  She'd find a new lead on something if it killed her.

 

In her distracted state she found herself at a new crime scene without having picked up anything from the cop about what she was investigating now.  She snapped back into the here and now as they were walking into a dive bar, filled with broken furniture and blood stains. 

 

"I thought you said this was a B&E?  This looks like it was a bar fight - what's the mystery?" she queried, feeling miffed.

 

The cop looked pissed off himself, "Look, I don't like having to bring the higher ups into this any more than you like being here.  This wasn't my idea.  As for the B&E, this is private property, belongs to the Shades, a gang of-"

 

"I know who the Shades are," Chloe interrupted.  She was even less sure now why she'd been brought into something that was obviously some kind of gang related violence. 

 

"Yeah, well, they were apparently becoming pretty successful, kept a lot of cash here. Stolen last night, and a lot of their top guys in hospital."

 

"Anything fatal?" She asked, wondering if it was going to turn into a murder after all.

 

"Nah, broken bones, some minor stab wounds, you know."

 

"Ok.  So, they reported the theft? So that's why this is such a special case?" After all, these sorts of organisations typically liked to deal with these things themselves.  

 

Now the guy really squirmed.  "They didn't mean to report it.  We got here pretty quick, after the noise complaints, and the victims were in shock.  They all said the same thing."

 

"Oh?" 

 

"There was just one guy.  And he had wings."

 

Chloe felt like she'd been kicked in the gut.  By a swarm of butterflies. She reached out and clutched the wall to keep from falling. "Was it Lu- ah. Have we got an identification?"

 

"Of a guys with wings?" The cop snorted. "No!"

 

Chloe did her best to roll her eyes convincingly. "Nooo, Sargent, no of course not, hahaha! I meant, do we have anyone who meets the description - obviously minus the wings! I can only assume these guys were testing their product.  Or maybe a rival was trying to spook them."

 

"Oh! Oh, yeah, no I knew what you meant. Obviously." He looked embarrassed and relieved all at once. "Look, once these guys got over the shock, they clammed up.  Said it was a friendly fight, just a competition. We've got nothing else out of them."  He started looking shifty again as he continued, "super weird crime scene, no leads, that's where you come in. I mean I get this isn't your thing, but if you can help out at all, any suggestions you might have, we'd really appreciate it.  Actually we'd have asked that partner of yours first about this kind of thing, but..."

 

Chloe couldn't help flinching. "Yeah, but. No, it's fine, I got this.  I'll look into it and let you know if I have any ideas."

 

The guy looked genuinely relieved.  "Thanks detective, we're really happy to have you on the case."

 

She plastered a smile on her face, and clutched her shaking hands together, refusing to acknowledge them.  She wasn't going to get carried away.  There was no way this could be Lucifer.  I mean sure he loved bar fights, but what possible reason could he have to hospitalise a bunch of gang members?  And to steal money? There was no way.  And apart from the supposed wings, which could mean anything, there was absolutely nothing tying him to this crime.  She was clearly clutching at straws, and she was only embarrassed that she was so desperate to see him again as to immediately jump to the conclusion that he was behind such a pointless and violent crime.  It wasn't like him at all.  There was no reason to think that he'd come back to earth without bothering to get in touch.  No reason at all.

 

Just then, something white caught her eye.  She stepped cautiously towards the bar, and bent down to pick it up from under a bar stool.  She stared at the feather for a long moment.  Finally, she asked "you didn't think this was evidence?"

 

"Detective, I don't know where that came from. We must have missed it."

 ********************

 

Chloe’s sense of responsibility forced her to the hospital before she did anything else.  Like the cop had said, none of the victims were willing to spill.  She had an advantage over him in her questioning, however.

 

“Yeah, I understand” she said to a guy with two black eyes and a broken nose, who had just been explaining how he fell into a bar stool face first while watching a boxing match.  “So, what was up with that guy’s accent though?”

 

“Wait, who told you-” he began, before correcting, “I mean, whatever, the guys fighting didn’t talk much.”

 

To the woman with stitches in the next room, she said in the middle of an unrelated line of questioning, “Look, you’re not in any trouble, but I just don’t understand how a three-piece suit fit over the wings?”

 

The woman looked baffled for a moment, “you know, I didn’t even have time to wonder about that…” before she went back to stone-walling.

 

After she’d finished, Chloe went straight to Lux, feeling like her insides were burning and freezing all at once.  She parked outside, and just sat in her car looking at the doors for a while.  She had checked in so many times, finding it closed and dark and depressing as … well, hell.  Now, though, she thought she could see a light inside.

 

She approached the door, pressing her hands against it and breathing deeply.  But putting her face as close to the glass as possible, she just couldn’t be sure whether there was anything to see.  Then she heard the piano, and her heart skipped a beat.  With no particular plan in mind, she wrenched the door open, meeting no resistance for the first time in a month.  She ran, past the bar, toward the piano, calling “Lucifer!?”, her tone light and girly, her face smiling, ignoring the detective in her that had already figured out this wasn’t going to be the reunion she’d dreamed of.

 

She found the seat warm, but the piano abandoned. Knowing he wouldn’t be there, but unable to resist, she went up to the penthouse.  Her eyes narrowed as the lift doors opened. She’d seen this room before when Lucifer had left town, and it didn’t look like this.  The furniture was uncovered.  The bed sheets were ruffled.  And there was a half empty glass sitting on the bar. She snorted automatically, imagining what Lucifer would have to say about her automatic “half empty” description.

 

But thinking about their banter hurt, and she gave voice to it.  “LUCIFER!?” She called out, pacing around the room, “Lucifer, why!? I know you’re back, why… Why didn’t you tell me, why are you hiding from me?! I thought… I thought I mattered to you.  I thought WE mattered.”

 

Then she shook her head, feeling embarrassed for yelling at an obviously now empty room.  She brushed her stinging eyes, took a deep breath, and put her chin up.  She would get to the bottom of this.  And Lucifer would explain himself.  He always told the truth.

 

As Chloe left, Lucifer leaned his head back against the wall around the corner, staring at the ceiling.  After a few minutes, when he was sure she was far enough away, he yelled in fury and pain, gouging the bricks of the wall beneath his hands. 


End file.
